


Powerbars (and Other Pleasures Postponed)

by sheafrotherdon



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-02
Updated: 2006-07-02
Packaged: 2017-10-11 23:37:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/118409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheafrotherdon/pseuds/sheafrotherdon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>". . . I doubt the Wraith are supplying his powerbar needs.  And wow, in my head, 'powerbar needs' just became really dirty' "</p>
            </blockquote>





	Powerbars (and Other Pleasures Postponed)

  
  
  
  
  


**Entry tags:**

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[fandom:sga](http://sheafrotherdon.livejournal.com/tag/fandom%3Asga), [fandom:sga:john/rodney](http://sheafrotherdon.livejournal.com/tag/fandom%3Asga%3Ajohn%2Frodney)  
  
  
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1.

Rodney thought he'd known tired before - known exhaustion intimately, mapped the unforgiving rushes of adrenaline, the gentle seduction of giving in by inches, losing ground, giving up.

But this - this was something new.

Suspended in the sentient web of a hive ship's underbelly, his fear was larger than he knew how to grasp. Earth, death, culling - the words rattled inside him, collided with each rib (his heart), sank into the depths of his stomach, twisted his guts and shook through his limbs. He pressed his lips together - _focus, focus_ \- thought of other, smaller, marks of chaos he could comprehend - thirst, hunger; the mocking, cinnamon after-taste of a powerbar, long since gone.

His eyes flew open when he felt pressure of hands against the organic weave of his cell (palms sweating, heart pounding) but . . . "John?" And this was hallucination, his brain deprived of nutrients, sugar, fat, water (familiar eyes, cocky smile, that goddamn _hair_ ).

John stepped back a fraction as the web loosened, fell away. "How 'bout we get out of here?"

Rodney shook his head - going anywhere with a hallucination was probably (definitely) a very bad idea, especially on a hive ship, ( _definitely_ on a hive ship) - but then he saw it.

In the top, right-hand pocket of John's vest - a powerbar - a dumb, prosaic, ordinary thing; standard issue; completely untouched. He swallowed, grimaced, reached out and ran a finger over the bump that meant _food, real, home_.

"Oh shit," he said, looking up, panic stricken as he took in John's arched eyebrow. "Not a hallucination."

"Glad you could join the party, McKay." Sheppard reached into his vest, fished out the powerbar, ripped the foil with his teeth and pressed it into Rodney's hand. "Later," he promised, and moved to cut Ronon free.

They were still gonna die - but at least he wouldn't be hungry. (Hungry or left behind).

2.

He didn't crash - no plummeting, damp-palmed, trembling pit yawned on the other side of rescue. Instead he coasted on fractious energy of a whispered _later_ , complained his way through Elizabeth's questions, bitched at Carson until the other man relaxed. He ate with an air of mutiny about him, as if water and food were annoyances barely to be borne, tortures created by Scots with too little imagination and far too much time (not to mention a fondness for sheep and an inability to find a vein on their first try).

Finally, _finally_ , with the weight of relief heavy on his shoulders, he slipped away - found his quarters, waited and paced, wrung his hands and rehearsed his words - flippant comments, cutting remarks, observations on physics, gravity, hair gel, heroes, suicide.

But John stole the words clean out of his mouth - opened the door, slammed him to the wall, kissed him weak, grateful, bewildered. Hands pulled and tugged - shirt, pants, zipper, fly - and John's breath was harsh, his fingers intent. He fell to his knees, sucked him _hard_ , and Rodney choked out the meaning of _later_ as he bucked and came (spilling, spent).


End file.
